The (de)parted

 
The memories are there  
they are all around  
I am in them  
people I know are in them;  
the memories are not mine  
 
They are in this place  
this place I am in  
but I am not here  
 
There is no danger in leaving  
only in staying  
and in the repetition of  
waiting in the old ruins  
 
In the jarred coming together;  
in the moment of tangental contact;  
in the immiscible commingling of lives  
before we continue our own rotation  
counter and opposite  
and spin as before;  
the old path is the way  
 
Orange and blue can only approach each other.